


nathaniel is relevant

by KateNonymous



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateNonymous/pseuds/KateNonymous
Summary: au where in "Nathaniel is Irrelevant" things turn out a much, much different way





	nathaniel is relevant

**Author's Note:**

> major spoilers for end of season 3 of crazy ex-gf  
> also: character death, blood, mentions of cults,

Rebecca can’t run real far. 

She cups her chest as she sprints down the street, one thought pacing through her usually overactive mind. _Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Naethiel._

Tim was the only one who was even close to helpful on that roof. Her other employees - coworkers? - whatever, they were as annoying as usual but Tim, Tim actually did something for once and Tim, Tim wasn’t fast enough. Or was it Rebecca who wasn’t fast enough, swinging around and running to find Trent looming over her boyfriend -ex-boyfriend - lover -ex-lover - whatever with the biggest knife she’d ever seen. 

_Do something you stupid bitch, oh my god, you stupid bitch, DO SOMETHING._ But she doesn’t, she stands wide-eyed as Nathaniel looks up and meets her teary eyes. She watches the expression of confusion, anger, than worry swipe across his face. Rebecca moves forward, then back, swaying, terrified. She can hear footsteps behind her, her stupid _useless_ coworkers (and Tim) and she can see Nathaniel and she can see Trent and she can see the knife and-

* * *

Nathaniel thinks of Tripp. 

He feels the heat pool throughout him, then the cold sink into him. 

Their mutual friend tells Nate that Tripp ran off and joined some cult somewhere far, like, Africa? Or Arizona? Their friend can’t remember the details as they sit around Nate’s cabin’s living room. Snow dusted the ground of the mountains. Nate just wanted to get away after finals, and their friend just wanted a place to smoke pot. The friend takes a hit of a joint, not even bothering to offer passing it to his tight-laced friend.

“A cult?” The friend nods. “What do you mean, I spoke to Tripp the other day, he was fine.” Nate closes the book he was reading (if he’s not studying then he should be practicing polo but it’s too cold for polo so Nate’s studying because he’s a hard worker and not some nancy boy or weakling) and turns to stare at his friend, who in turn, was staring at his joint. “ _Chad_ ” 

Chad tries to blink the high out of his eyes and focus on his distressed friend. The site of Nate’s gaze, the piercing blue eyes directly on him makes him laugh. “Yeah man. Tripp is ...tripping.” And Chad makes himself laugh and laugh and laugh and Nate stands up. He feels heat running through him, his cheeks flaring up in an uncomfortable anger. Remembering quickly, he fumbles for the phone on the desk, pressing the numbers he knows by heart. There’s ringing, and ringing, and finally he gets through. 

“Hi! Mrs. Perkason.” Nathaniel is almost embarrassed of how high his voice jumps, how shakey his hands are, and the cackling laughter of his stoned friend behind him. “I-I-I was just wondering-”

“Oh, dear, you’re calling about Tripp.” He hears the heavy sigh of his best friend’s mom. “We called the home phone, dear, but your father said you were away for the holidays, and we didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upset me?” Nate repeats, numbly. He’s distinctly aware that Chad has stopped laughing. “W-what would upset me, Mrs. P.” There’s static and clicking on the other end, the sounds of sniffles and suddenly, Tripp’s father is on the phone.

“Hey, son.” And Nate’s sure that Tripp’s father calls him son more than his own father has. He likes that about Tripp’s dad. When he’s back, he’ll invite Tripp and his dad over for a nice dinner. “Listen, Nate, we can talk about this in person if you want to wait.” He can hear the crying of Tripp’s mom on the other end of the phone. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Tripp’s gone, son. He packed his bags and left some ...sort of note. Gone off to find Eternal Happiness.”

“Happiness?”

“It’s a cult, son.” 

“When’s he coming back?” And there’s a long pause, the kind that hangs heavy on the telephone wires. Chad’s behind him now, hovering uncomfortably, attempting to listen in and not invade Nate and his sensitivities. Chad doesn’t hear the answer. What he does hear is Nate slam down the phone, his back heaving with deep, angry breaths. Chad steps back, steps far far enough away back. Nate knocks the phone off the table, and Chad watches the heavy wood thud to the floor. He looks back up at his blond friend, his tall body, and how it moves so ungracefully out the door. Then it registers that Nate just left the cabin. 

“ _Wait!”_ Chad moves as coherently as he can, following Nathaniel out the door. He sees his friend, barefoot in the snow, goosebumps prickling on his skin as he heads straight for the lake. “ _Nate! What the fuck are you DOING?!”_ And the heat is building up inside Nate, the tears are stinging in his eyes and in his throat and he needs to get it out and he sees the ice floating in the lake and Nate jumps and-

* * *

Rebecca thought she knew what blood looked like. 

She’d seen it every month, for crying out loud, she’s a woman! But the blood that comes up with the knife is unlike anything she’s ever seen. She doesn’t know where to look, but somehow she’s looking everywhere. She sees the whites of Nate’s eyes, then his suit, gray and neat and perfect, slumped over the table. She sees Trent whos ginger now? and the knife in his hand and the blood on his knife and the smile on his face.

Any air that was in Rebecca’s lungs is now gone, and she’s aware that she’s falling now. There’s the sound of the knife slicing and squelching through skin, and a groan of dying and death and Rebecca is unaware that she is screaming. She’s making noises she didn’t know humans were capable of and suddenly someone is helping her to her feet and jesus, she has no idea what’s going on. When she looks up, Trent, and his ginger wig, and his glasses, and Nathaniel’s blood is staring back at her and she screams. She attempts to shove him away and she feels his hands grip her forearms, the press of the knife handle make dents in her flesh. The feeling of warm liquid stuck between their skin. 

“Don’t you see? We can be together now?” And she’s crying and thrashing. “This is a good thing, Rebecca.” And suddenly, Trent is ripped off by her. His hands are forced behind his back and she doesn’t think the police is here yet, and they’re not, it’s just the full strength of Tim and George but Rebecca just stares at Trent’s face. 

“Why, Trent?” She doesn’t recognize the sound of her own voice. High and strung out and weak. She is hyper-aware of the body of the man she loves laying on pavement, bleeding out. She is hyper-aware of Mona’s screams, sounds she’ll never be able to unhear, and the curve of Mona’s skinny body as she throws herself over her dead boyfriend. 

“Aw, come on, silly. You know why.” And the police are there, the sirens painting blue and red across the balcony. Across everyone’s faces. There’s the sound of doors bursting open, of confusion and more questions. Trent doesn’t resist. Let’s the officers put handcuffs on him. Rebecca watches him get led off the roof, listens to the tune that he hums to himself. _“I’m just a boy in love…I can’t be held responsible for my actions…”_

Rebecca and Mona don’t speak at Nathaniel’s funeral. 

Mona is surprised that the girl who slept with and then indirectly killed her boyfriend had the nerve to show up. Rebecca is too. She was mainly dragged along by her coworkers, who managed to sedate her enough to slip on a black dress and hold her upright enough to make it to the burial ground.

She recognizes Nathaniel’s father immediately (from the times she meddled in (and now ruined) his life), and assumes the smaller, weeping woman is his mother. Rebecca turns to Paula, who’s wearing her cute little black veil that she never had the right occasion for, but now she does, and at least there’s that, right? and mutters, “This is all my fault.” 

Paula holds her close. 

Their fight abruptly came to an end when a flurry of phone calls came to both her cell and her house phone. She attempted to ignore them, assuming they were all Rebecca. She turned off her cell (for once, Scott joked) and put it under her pillow, lying down under the covers to be certifiably sad. “Jeez, you and Rebecca have fought before but she’s _never_ called this many times before.” Scott commented, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his wife’s leg. Paula didn’t say anything. “Would you mind if I check the messages? I’m always so interested in her drama.” He giggled, and Paula didn’t say anything again. She strained her ear, not sure what she was hoping to hear. Just as quickly as Scott left the room he entered it again.

“It’s not Rebecca.” Paula sat up, concerned by her husband’s worried tone. “Its, uh, it’s your boss, I think. He’s, uh, he’s been hurt and you gotta go. Now.” And Scott spent that whole sentence looking for Paula’s keys and they’re where they always are, Scott and why are you going so crazy? “Why are you being so calm?”

“It’s Darryl, he hurts himself all the time.” She gasps, concern crossing her face. “Is it the baby? Is it Heather?”

“It’s Nathaniel.” That throws Paula for a loop. “He’s badly hurt, he might not make it, and you have to go to the hospital. It’s urgent. Now go.” Paula’s still confused but she goes.

When she walks into the waiting room, all of her coworkers are there, as well as Nathaniel’s parents, and his girlfriend, and Rebecca. Everyone looks up at her, eyes rimmed red. “What is going on?” And before all the words get out, Rebecca’s in her arms, sobbing hysterically. “Okay, Cookie, okay, just tell me, what happened.” 

“She hasn’t been able to speak all night.” Paula turns and Tim speaks quietly, looking down at the ground. He takes a deep breath. “Some guy...he uh...stabbed Nathaniel.” And Rebecca’s sobbing and screaming gets worse, louder, and Paula feels the tears soak her shirt. Instantly she knows who did it.

“Trent…” Paula whispers and Rebecca screams, blood-curdling loud, fisting her hands into Paula’s sweater. “Oh god.” And together they sit down, Rebecca half on Paula’s lap, drifting out of screams and sobs. 

After a long while of waiting, Mona throws her hands up in exacerbation. “I’m his _girlfriend._ ” Everyone slowly turns to stare at her out of shock. “God, we fucking _live together_ and you’re comforting the _maniac_ who was _sleeping_ with him the entire time?”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Paula snaps, semi-in a whisper to avoid disturbing anyone further. “This is obviously a stressful time for everyone.” But, she thinks, it’s going to be okay. It always works out. Rebecca was right about Trent, so that redeems her, and Nathaniel will dump Mona when he recovers and him and Rebecca will be together and Trent is locked up forever so everything will be okay. Paula finishes her thought, and hears the doors open, and she looks up with a smile and, 

“He didn’t make it.” 

* * *

Valencia’s never planned a funeral before. 

She knows the basics: black, sad, mourning, crying, etc. But, black is very slimming so at least there’s that. And Beth gives her a look and Valencia knows what it means. “Apparently we are the only two people in this town who plan any sort of event and because we sort of knew him his parents expect us to throw them an amazing funeral where they don’t have to spend any money.” 

“I thought that, like, spending money was their thing.” Heather, eased to sit down on her travel pillow, wearing baggy maternity clothes and picking crumbs out of her hair. 

“You gave birth, like, a week ago. Why are you like this still?” Valencia gestured to all of Heather, who returned with a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, well, the same night I gave birth is, like, the same day that my friend’s ex-boyfriend was like, ruthlessly murdered by her _other_ ex-boyfriend so...with that and all the postpartum I’m not feeling too great.”

“Okay, we’ll deal with that next.” Valencia turns back to Beth. “How in God’s name are we going to plan a funeral. We barely know anything _about_ Nathaniel.” 

“I have an idea.” And the voice of Josh Chan has always made the hairs on Valencia’s neck stand up (in both a good and a bad way) but this time it was just...sinister. Since Rebecca started alternating staying in a hospital and with Paula (when she goes from suicidal to slightly-less suicidal) Josh had started staying in Rebecca’s room. (“Almost beats living with Hector’s mom” He would joke, to a room full of people who didn’t laugh.) Josh held up a small book, bright pink and covered in stickers. 

“Ooooh, Rebecca’s diary...yeah that’s smart but also suuuuper amoral.” Heather commented, pulling a chip out of her curls and eating it. Valencia makes grabby hands while Beth looks on in shock. Josh tosses it over to her and slides up next to Heather. “Yeah, you’re awful.”

“You smell awful.” Josh’s face wrinkles in disgust as he moves from bar to couch to watch Valencia flip through the pages. She stops when she sees _Nathaniel,_ with the i’s dotted with hearts. Valencia reads outloud,

“Dear Nathaniel J. Plimpton the Third.” And Josh can hear how Rebecca would say it, in the song-like way that she says most things. “One day I hope to learn what the J stands for. You never told me and said that you never would, but I know you, Nathaniel J Plimpton. I know the way the sun hits your eyes in the morning, and the way it turns your hair to gold.” And if it wasn’t Rebecca it would be too much, and if it wasn’t for a dead man, maybe it would be okay. “I know how you like Harry Potter, and how you’re _totally_ a Slytherin. And maybe I am a Gryffindor. Only because you gave me the bravery to kiss you that day.” And Josh knows exactly what day she was talking about. Kinda. Like, maybe not the _exact_ day, but it was during when they were engaged and that’s really shitty, he thinks.

“I know how much you love Ruth Gator Ginsberg. How you cuddle her when I’m not there.” And in the margins there are doodles of alligators and other animals. “I know how excited you get every time a nature documentary comes on TV, and how you try to not let me see how excited you get. The way your eyes sparkle as you learn and list off facts about monkeys and cheetahs and “fishies” and more monkeys, wow, you really like monkeys, huh, Nathaniel.” And she never calls him Nate in the diary. Never. Valencia’s voice chokes on every word, careful to not let her tears stain the pages of her best friend’s diary. Everyone around the table is quiet, blinking back tears. “You’ll never know, Nathaniel, how much I love you.” And Valencia’s voice breaks and she falls into the arms of her girlfriend, diary falling onto the coffee-table. Josh is quick to scoop it up and finish it off, scanning it rapidly with his eyes. _I’ve never felt this way before. Like my insides are exploding with glitter._ He closes it shut and retreats back to his cave (well, Rebecca’s cave) that makes him feel safe from the world. 

Heather (who has been weeping openly since the word “dear”) watches him, watches the couple, and goes back to her still sleeping boyfriend. She tucks herself around him, and he feels her shaking and sobbing. Hector turns to face her, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey…” He soothes, kissing her temples and forehead and tear-stained cheeks. “Wanna talk?”

“I love you.” And her usual cool voice is jagged, rough, strung out. “I love you so much. And I need you to know that right now. And forever.” Hector smiles his easy-going smile. 

“I love you too. Right now. And forever.” And Heather cries some more, a lot more, and Hector holds her until she stops. 

* * *

Mona wasn’t consulted in the funeral plans. Mona wasn’t consulted, or acknowledged, by Nathaniel’s parents. And wasn’t asked to give a eulogy. “You’ve just been through so much,” The funeral planner said, “We have people who know Nathaniel really well who want to say things.” And she flashed her pearly whites.

“Rebecca?” And Valencia recoiled. “It’s Rebecca isn’t it. It’s always Rebecca.” Mona looks at the casket where her dead boyfriend lays. “I loved him too, Valencia. I loved him. I poured out my heart and my soul and everything for him. I wanted to marry him. Do you get that?” And Valencia doesn’t say anything. “Do you understand what it’s like? To have everything you wanted to close then just ripped away from you? By some fucking girl? Her and her crazy ex-boyfriend. I can’t do this. I can’t be here.” And Mona is still muttering, still crying, still cursing as she leaves. She walks briskly away from the casket, crying into one hand. She sobs as she walks through the rows of chairs, suddenly stopping where Rebecca leans on Paula’s shoulder. Mona leans down and hisses thickly through tears, “You hurt... _everyone_ around you.” And Rebecca numbly nods, and Paula stares up at the girl. 

And Mona leaves the funeral.

And Mona leaves West Covina.   


**Author's Note:**

> justice for mona  
> anyway first fic ever lmk what y'all think thanks!  
> also jsyk chad is my fratsona


End file.
